The Brink of Death
by Ysavvryl
Summary: Training at the brink of death is where the dark knight gains mastery.


**The Brink of Death**

Cecil walked away from Mysidia. He didn't want to deal with them; they wouldn't welcome him anyhow. But, what now? There was no sign of anyone else from the wreck, just bits and pieces of the ship scattered across the beach. All the people who had fought with him, Rosa, Kain, Yang, Edward, Rydia, they were all gone. Dead or held hostage or completely unlike themselves; it made it hard to want to do anything. It didn't help that seeing one of the towns he'd hurt right there, so he walked away from that place.

Where to? He had some ideas; he wanted to rescue Rosa, at least. She didn't deserve to be involved in his crimes. But when he did save her, he wanted to take her back to Baron and leave her there. Leave her behind, out of his life. She'd be safer; she'd be upset about it, but there were far worse things that could happen to her if he stayed near her. That much was clear.

Just let her be to live a life of peace, without blood and pain.

Een dea zhain otou hath…

He lifted his head and looked ahead. There was a giant bird diving at him, its long beak enough to snap a tree like a twig. For the people around here, it was a terrifying menace. Cecil wasn't intimidated. In fact, he didn't really care what would happen.

Ka souh mein feihah, death…

Just as the bird was about to slam into him, Cecil grabbed the hilt of Deathbringer and drew it rapidly, slicing through the Zuu's neck. As it fell on the ground in front of him, it was already dead. A few bloody feathers fluttered around him. The scent was strangely energizing, the blood and the fresh corpse, wings that had been motion ceasing to lift anymore. It woke him some from the numbness in his mind, although that rapidly closed back in.

Sliiii jai hurggh nain, death...

At least it'd be something to eat.

* * *

This was said to be a sacred mountain. But what things were said to be often didn't matter. The dead rose and came to his call, as they always did. They paced along the trails, without pain, without sadness, without fear, without life. Life was an inconvenience anyhow. Laying on the earthen path, tracing lines in the dirt, Scarmiglione grumbled and thought.

They used to call him a madman. Seeking eternal life was a madness in itself, but seeking eternal death? But life always ended; eternal life was a fruitless pursuit. Death was an end, so it could not end itself. If one embraced death, one could hang on the brink of ending forever. From earth life sprang; to earth life returned when it found death. And now, they called him something much greater. They called him a Fiend.

And he could enjoy that if it wasn't for the other Fiends. Cagnazzo was the real mad one, seeking power and more identities to consume. He would overtake the other Fiends if he wasn't so in love with his own convoluted plots. Barbaricca, or Valvalis, or whatever she was calling herself lately, she might be someone Scarmiglione could tolerate as a peer. She had bloodlust and the potential for cunning, but she was vain and had almost no ambition once she reached the level of a Fiend. And Rubicante was a weird one for embracing values of humanity instead of gleefully shedding the trappings once they surpassed the level of humans and normalcy.

Scarmiglione had cunning, though. He knew Fiends normally could not escape death either. It simply took far more for a Fiend to experience death. But if he could get the other Fiends killed off, got to their bodies before magic consumed them, he could bring them to the brink of life and death that he enjoyed. They would count among the undead and Scarmiglione could control any undead. Any.

If he had control over the Fiends… well, currently he had to get past Golbez to accomplish that. But Golbez would make for a good member of the undead too. He could make for a magnificent Fiend if one of the elements came unclaimed too. And, that could happen since Scarmilgione had not turned any Fiend but himself to undeath. At any rate, once he controlled the Fiends, he could bring death to the whole world. And then bring them all to the brink, where he would have uncontested rule over everything.

That required overcoming the other Fiends, which was the obstacle he was trying to plan for. Of course, he didn't want to alert the others to his scheme. They would find a way to put an end to him somehow if they learned of it. But, if he could just get one to a state of undeath, he could move out in the open. But which one to deal with first?

A man in armored boots was walking towards the mountain.

"Hmm?" Scarmiglione placed his hand on the earth upon feeling that faint vibration. He pressed his hand into the earth, tapping into its senses. Out in the forests surrounding Mount Ordeals, a man bearing life, death, light, and dark was walking towards him. His potential to surpass the humans of this world was unmistakable. So then, that was the one that Golbez wanted to be rid of. Scarmiglione did his best work around mountains, so he'd been sent here to intercept him. Golbez was concerned that this man, Cecil, would attempt to climb the mountain to take the ordeal of a paladin.

He was currently a dark knight, with a sword that spoke the tongues of death.

"That's it," Scarmiglione muttered to himself, smiling behind the dark cowl he wore.

But while he considered his form completely magnificent, a perfect expression of his studies and passions, most humans were utterly horrified at it. Even those who weren't tended to distrust him on sight. He didn't like doing this; it was far too close to that jerk Cagnazzo's methods. But for this man, who had the potential to be the perfect weapon, Scarmiglione thrust his hands and feet into the earth, drawing upon its power to remake his body. He wouldn't make himself to normal standards of beauty, or his own really, but he could at least make a rough looking man who seemed perfectly at home being far out in the wilderness away from civilization.

Add to that blood-stained armor that would fit a dark knight and a sword of bone that was less ideal than Deathbringer but suitable for this…

Scarmiglione rose to the feet of this new body, then cut the bone sword through the air to remind himself of this mastery he'd once gained.

* * *

"What is it you seek out here where no one lives?"

Cecil felt unsure about this man. He smelled of death and bloodshed. But then, so did he. He'd tried to hold himself back and be a knight of honor, as his king had taught him to be. But his duty was to fight; death was inevitable in battle. Who was this man? He'd not met any dark knight other than the king, and the king had retired from the role years ago.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I wanted to save someone; I still do, but having lost everyone that was with me, I..." what was he trying to say?

The man stopped his practice then, letting the bone sword stay by his side. "This is someone you love?"

"Yes," he said, bowing his head.

"Are you willing to do anything to save them? Anything at all, even if it means turning that sword against one who was once an ally?"

Kee haah suu na...

How much did he know?

Meiz ainm gahst ill teed, death.

Even one who had once been an ally… to rescue Rosa, send her somewhere where she'd be safe from everyone, even himself… "Yes."

"I can tell you have good skills to suit your armor," the other dark knight said, gesturing to him with his sword. "But you have not yet mastered the dark sword. Others may have said that you cannot overcome evil with the power of darkness. But know this: evil is a mere label for things people do not want to confront. Darkness is a state many of them fear for they do not have light to make things easily understood. But it is in the dark that you find things that no one else will say, that they will never realize. The power of a dark knight mastered is something that no one can overcome. It is why I live alone now, one of them at least. No one is my match and I will not rest until I cross swords with one who is."

Was that the truth of this? Cecil put his hand to his chest. The king had said this was for great power, to give Baron a warrior that could defend it if one of the older kingdoms turned on them. But given what he had been asked to do…

Ossa ha nea, rah, see, sa, Rosa.

This was for Rosa.

The dark knight tapped his sword to his helm. "Do you wish to master the dark sword? Will you complete your training with me?"

This was a power he hadn't entirely wanted. A power that he still had some fear of, the source of all his guilt. But… this was for Rosa.

"Yes."

* * *

Darkness could not kill its user. But it could bring them to the brink of death. While it wasn't the side of the brink that Scarmiglione was on, it was the side that he had learned much from. It was at that brink that the real skills of a dark knight came out. It was a matter of courting death over and over again, drawing closer every time until the brink was crossed and one became death.

For most humans, it was a terrifying state to train in. Many who took up the dark sword were quick to put it away when they first entered the brink. But with the right courage and passion, one could overcome natural fear. One could learn to embrace the brink and learn great wisdom there. Scarmiglione lived in the brink. He loved it. The secrets of death and earth whispered to him there.

And, Cecil was getting there. His balance was still unsteady in a weakened physical state; his moves were desperate standing before death and fighting with everything he had left to avoid crossing the brink. And eventually, he would be forced across, struck down by one of the zombies he was training against. Then, Cecil would belong to Scarmiglione.

Eventually. He was a hair's breath from death today. A flickering red aura came off Deathbringer, coiling around Cecil's body to vastly boost his strength by tapping directly into his heart. When the last of this round's skeletons collapsed back to the dust it had been raised from, Cecil collapsed onto his hands and knees. His living muscles could barely hold him, making his form tremble. One might mistake that for fear. But, he refused to collapse entirely. This was not fear, but courage to exist in the brink.

Scarmiglione waved his hand, not bothering to say anything this time. More of the undead rose out of the earth: moving corpses, maddened ghouls, battle-hardened skeletons. They found Cecil living and instinctively drew to him to seize what little life was there. It was a hunger of the undead that did not bear wisdom. Vainly seeking full existence, they sought to take life from the living. That hunger was how they were controlled by a lich like himself, one who had overcome all hunger along with all the other chains of the living.

Cecil's body stilled, sensing himself in danger of crossing the brink unwillingly. He pulled back to sit up with his sword in both hands. As he did not have mastery, his actions were slow and deliberate. Yet right before one of the zombies lunged for his neck, Cecil made Deathbringer shine darkly and cleaved the zombie in two. The dark energy burst out, vaporizing all of the monsters Scarmiglione had summoned before one could blink. He then set his sword down to rest its tip on the ground; he was as still as a statue there. His energy was at the brink too.

One good push and… no, not just yet. There was a danger of helping Cecil to train in the brink, and that was him realizing what Scarmiglione meant for him. He could end him then, even if the first blow would force Scarmiglione into his true lich form. The second blow would be the last for him. Once Scarmiglione had Cecil's loyalty in life, then he could push him into death and a controllable state.

Scarmiglione went over and forced Cecil to drink a powerful healing potion. He wouldn't be capable of doing that himself. "That will do for today," he said. "You are making excellent progress."

"Rosa..." he said as his energy returned. His body slumped now that he wasn't fueled by the brink. "Where's… Rosa? Must find..." his head lowered; he was looking more dead then alive when healed. He smelled strongly of death too. Ordinary people could not recognize the true smell of death, only that of a corpse. However, they'd still sense it and that led them to instinctively fearing a dark knight.

"It won't be long now," Scarmiglione said. He'd accept a state of madness instead of loyalty too.

* * *

Trees should be green. Cecil knew that. But when he looked up into the forest canopy, he only saw gray. Gray leaves, gray sky. Gray birds. The birds sang in calling out to each other, but it was just noise. Frankly, it was uninteresting.

He turned his head and touched a flowering vine next to him. This was… he should know, but it didn't feel like it mattered. However, he knew it should have a strong scent. He remembered smelling them when he'd first walked here, them and the evergreens, and the sour wild apples he'd found. They smelled like nothing now. No color either. And when he had last eaten one of those wild apples, it had not tasted like anything. It was just like everything else.

Scarmiglione had given him some raw meat the other day and he hadn't been able to tell the difference from something that had been cooked.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember why he was here. Rosa, yes. He had to save Rosa. Put her somewhere safe. He could remember the color of her hair, the sound of her laugh, the way she never gave up on him. He shouldn't give up on her. Oddly, he remembered the colors around her in his memories, but not anything else. He knew Cid was fond of bold colors, but remembered him in grayscale. While he could remember Rosa cooking for him, he couldn't recall the tastes or scents…. Or what it had been, really. Food was food. He knew he hadn't always thought that way, but he couldn't care about that anymore.

Esta… Cecil. Someone comes. Someone who wants to control you past death.

Don't let them.

Don't suffer them to exist.

Destroy them.

We can find the one you want to hold, together.

Cecil automatically looked to where Scarmiglione was coming. He could see color there: muddy greens, moldy browns, aged ocher… red, bloodshed. When had he started understanding Deathbringer's voice? When had he even realized what Deathbringer's voice was in his head? Not that he cared. Deathbringer was right. It… was always right. It was the voice of the brink before death, and after it. He put his hand on Deathbringer's handle; it had become an extension of himself.

We are the Deathbringer.

"We are the Deathbringer."

Take from him his existence. Take from him the mantle of the Fiend of Earth. Become a Fiend. Then you will be a true master of darkness and that which tries to take what is yours will suffer.

Rosa is yours and no one else will be able to touch her again.

After giving a nod, Cecil got onto his feet. Scarmiglione emerged and energy returned to Cecil's body. Battle was near; that was when he most felt alive. No, that wasn't quite right to say. Being in battle was a joy that he'd never understood before. But embracing that… embracing the brink of death… no one would be able to stop him.

"You say you have never been overcome," Cecil said to him.

"That's right," the other dark knight said.

No… lich. He mastered the darkness and chose to exist in the brink. Will you exist in the brink?

Yes.

Cecil withdrew Deathbringer. "I will overcome you, Fiend of Earth."

Scarmiglione cackled, drawing out his own bone sword. "You think you can?"

"I will."


End file.
